


Eyes And Ears

by zackstrider



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabbles, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Misophonia, Sound Sensitivity Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zackstrider/pseuds/zackstrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma starts noticing the sounds that make his skin crawl in his first year of junior high. His family laughs it off, saying he’s just irritable. People call him a hypocrite because he makes the same sounds himself. No one understands, or tries to. Kenma keeps those that try to understand as close to him as he possibly can.</p><p>~</p><p>Misophonia is a condition that makes the subject who has it extremely sensitive to certain sounds. Also known as selective sound sensitivity syndrome, it starts with a trigger. It’s often an oral sound -- the noise someone makes when they eat, breathe, chew, yawn, or whistle. Sometimes a small repetitive motion is the cause, whether it’s visual or the subject can feel it -- someone fidgets, jostles the subject, or wiggles their foot. It can induce anxiousness, a fight or flight reaction, hatred, panic, the feeling of the subject’s skin crawling, and sometimes homicidal or suicidal thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nails

**Author's Note:**

> This is vent writing for me because Misophonia is the worst thing I’ve ever experienced in my life and I can’t escape it. These are probably going to range in length but stay relatively short. There won't always be happy endings.
> 
> In canon, Kenma is an only child, but for story purposes and helping things match up with my experiences, I'm giving him a brother who's a eighteen months younger than him. Everything written is from my experiences trigger wise. I don't have my own Kuroo to help me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 Trigger: Hearing - Nail Picking + Sight - Nail Picking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my brother picks his nails. he stops when i look at his hands and that's important to me

This might be the day Kenma kills someone.  He and Kuroo are sitting on their normal train, on a normal day, on their way to their normal school, when Kenma hears _it._

_Pick. Pick. Pick._

Kenma’s quick to locate the sound, his eyes landing on the hands of some teenager sitting two seats away from him, picking his nails like his life depends on it. Kenma wishes he could reach over and break his fingers. Broken fingers can’t pick their nails.

He hates himself for thinking like that.

_Pick. P i c k .  P  i  c  k  ._

Kenma wants to rip his hair out. He sighs heavily through his nose instead and moves his bag, reaching in blindly for the headphones that he knows are in there.

When he realizes his headphones are indeed, _not_ , in his bag, he feels like crying.

Kenma immediately knows where they are; at home, in his room, sitting on the corner of his desk with the audio jack hanging off the edge. Rather than putting them in his bag when he got home like he always did, he left them on his desk when his mother called him and pulled him out of his routine.

He has no idea how he’s going to get through the day without his headphones. It’s going to be a long day, that much he’s sure of.

He _knows_ he keeps glaring at the teenager’s hands, as if that’ll make him stop picking his nails, but _every time_ he hears the _pick_ of his nails Kenma feels his muscles tightening. His hands are laced together in his lap; fingers white from the pressure he’s putting on them because he’s _squeezing his hands for dear life._

He feels like crying. He might just.

_This is hell._

A pair of hands rest over Kenma’s and tug them free from each other before the owner of said hands, Kuroo, stands. “Let’s move so people can sit, Kenma.” he says, waiting for Kenma to stand up with his bag before shuffling between people until they’re standing in front of a set of doors. Those hands reach up, cupping Kenma’s cheeks before sliding further and covering his ears. Kenma breathes in his scent, rich with cologne and body wash, slowly calming down as the world outside is muted by Kuroo’s hands. Kuroo, who is rubbing right behind his ears to help mask other sounds, only smiles as Kenma’s arms wrap around his middle.

Kenma thanks whatever God that’s in the sky for gifting him Kuroo.

Kenma tells himself he doesn’t deserve Kuroo for what he puts him through. He doesn’t deserve that he gets to tuck his head under Kuroo’s chin while the elder male covers his ears for him. He doesn’t deserve the Kuroo that spent hours talking to him about whatever it is that he has, trying to understand, and then even longer coaxing out Kenma’s list of triggers. The Kuroo that’s changed his own ways because he doesn’t want to trigger Kenma.

Kenma voiced his concerns once, in a tired haze late at night when he mental filter couldn’t catch up with the words leaving his mouth. In turn, Kuroo told him it was worth it, because he never wants to see the pained look on Kenma’s face when something triggers him.

Kenma is so unbelievably in love with him, and will forever be thankful that Kuroo loves him back. Life is slightly easier living because of Kuroo.

Neither of them have a name for whatever it is that happens in Kenma’s ears, but Kuroo remembers to put an extra pair of earbuds in his bag in case Kenma forgets his headphones again.

* * *

The next time nails trigger him, he has headphones on and doesn’t hear anything. He doesn’t think it’ll bother him when he spots someone picking at the _skin –_ that _doesn’t_ make noise – around their nails. And yet he can’t stop staring. He can already feel the coil of _whatever it is_ in his stomach. He doesn’t have a word to identify it. The closest thing he can compare it to is dread. Dread, and unwarranted anger.

 _Pick, stop._ As one finger’s nail presses too hard into the target finger and doesn’t move. _Pick, slip._ As the attacking nail doesn’t press hard enough and slips past the target. _Pick, pull, brush._ As finally, the attacking nail finds it’s target piece of skin and pulls, before brushing away the defeated skin. He thinks that’s the end of it before, to Kenma’s horror, the male moves on to another finger.

Kenma wants to break fingers again.

He settles for digging his PSP out of his bag and distracting himself. It doesn’t do a good job of distracting him, he can’t stop from glancing at _those fingers_ to see if the owner has _stopped_ and he hasn’t. Kenma dies in his game, and he wants to share the same fate.

The only relief Kenma gets is when Kuroo pulls him off the train at their stop, leaving _those fingers_ and their owner behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want more information on misophonia, this website is a great resource: http://www.misophonia.com/
> 
> thank u for reading, pls tell me if I spelled something wrong somewhere. this is unbeta'd (and I'm looking for a beta reader!) so any comments are appreciated! feel free to tell me what you think too!


	2. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 Trigger: Hearing - Muffled base/voices through walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of my neighbors in this damn apartment building has a sub-woofer and it sounds like they're playing some kind of driving game, which spurred my writing this to try and distract myself while listening to loud music that'll eventually give me a headache
> 
> i want to rip my hair out

Kenma can’t sleep.

He doesn’t usually have a problem getting to sleep during the training camps. They’re secluded enough that the city noise doesn’t reach where they’re staying, and Kenma has earplugs if he needs them, but _tonight._

Tonight, something is different. Kenma doesn’t have earplugs to wear, he threw out his last pair this morning, thinking he had more in his bag. He _should_ have had more in his bag. He can hear what sounds like muffled base, or voices, he’s not sure which. But he hears it, and _it’s all he can think about._

_Where is it coming from. Why are people playing things so late. Why are they playing it so loudly. Why, when people are trying to sleep. Why why w hy  w h  y._

_Why can’t he be normal._

Someone inhales across the room – Kenma identifies it as Lev, who never sleeps quietly – snoring loudly and distracting Kenma for a split second before his muscles are back to tightening once more at the sound of the muffled base. He deduces that it’s not voices, considering it’s well into the night and no one would still be awake. Someone may have left something on, like a phone.

Kenma sits up, looking over at Kuroo’s cot and envying that the elder male he sleeping soundly – even if it’s with his pillow wrapped around his head. He’s still sleeping, and Kenma is jealous. He gets up, carefully shuffling out of the Nekoma room and beginning to venture down the hall. He pauses outside of the Fukurodani room, listening carefully for any noise inside. When he doesn’t hear any, he walks to the other side of the Nekoma room where Karasuno is staying.

He hears something faint inside the room and nearly rips the door open – nearly, but he manages to just slide it open gently – to discover the source. The source is laying next to Hinata’s head, blaring a YouTube video he must have been watching as he fell asleep. Carefully, as to not disturb anyone, Kenma tip-toes over to Hinata’s cot, pausing the video with a soft sigh. Mission accomplished, he heads back to his own room and lays down again, content that he’ll be able to get back to sleep.

Only to hear the unmistakable muffled thump of base.

Kenma whimpers, loudly. He swears he sees Kuroo stir, but the elder male settles back down just as quickly. Kenma’s jealous once again.

He’s tired. He just wants to sleep. They had so many matches that day, and they’ll have more tomorrow. He _needs_ to sleep. His nose burns as tears well in his eyes, and he reaches up to cover his ears, turning on his side. He tries to stay as quiet as he can as he cries. He’s so emotionally drained, he’s tired, he can’t _take this anymore._

_Please._

Kenma sniffles, his tears beginning to wet his pillow below him. Maybe if he cries enough he’ll fall asleep despite when his ears are hearing. He presses his fingers into his ears, trying to block out as much sound as he can despite his nails digging into his skin. It hurts, but it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t want to hear anything.

He feels like he’s close to sobbing – who knows, he may as well be – snot dripping from his nose and breath hot as he tries to catch his breath through his mouth. The right side of his face is wet, gravity bringing all his tears down with him. He’s whimpering, curled up tightly in the fetal position, all the muscles in his body as tense as they possibly can be as he squeezes himself. If only someone would mistake his head for a rock and kick it hard enough to knock him out.

Kenma doesn’t notice that Kuroo has stirred until he feels a thumb under his eye, wiping his cheek. Kenma looks up and sniffles, just barely registering the concern on Kuroo’s face. Shit, he woke him up.

_I’m the worst._

Kuroo reaches up and taps his own ear, as silent question, asking if something Kenma’s hearing is making him cry. Kenma nods stiffly, his body still tense. Kuroo glances at the wall, seeming to listen for a second before nodding. Kenma stays lying down tightly while Kuroo gets up, closing his eyes again. He knows Kuroo won’t find the source. He couldn’t find the source, and Kuroo is normal. He has even less of a chance.

He’s going to start crying all over again.

Kuroo comes back quickly, much to the surprise of Kenma, but he comes bearing gifts. Kuroo sits down on his cot, holding out his hand palm up, and Kenma’s eye gravitate to said palm.

_Earplugs._

Kenma sits up fast enough to give himself whiplash but he doesn’t _care_ , he’ll be able to sleep and it’s so worth it when he grabs the foam numbs from Kuroo’s hand. Kenma squishes them between his fingers quickly, warming them slightly before sliding them into his ears. He has to fiddle with them for a second before he lowers his hands into his lap, trying to listen.

Kenma hears _nothing_.

He reaches for Kuroo, pressing his palms to his boyfriend’s cheeks and leaning in to kiss him, to show him how thankful he is, to show him he loves him. He keeps kissing him, even when he feels a smile on Kuroo’s lips. Kenma kisses the corner of his mouth, his nose, his cheeks, anything he can get his lips on because _finally_ he’ll be able to sleep and he’s never been happier.

(That’s a lie, but as this current moment he’s as happy as he thinks he’ll ever be.)

Kuroo reaches up to rub under Kenma’s eyes with his thumbs, wiping away his drying tears before he lays on his back, arms open to the blond. Kenma takes the invitation immediately, nuzzling close to Kuroo with his head on his chest, over his heart. The elder pulls his blanket over the two of them and Kenma presses as close as he can to his boyfriend, one arm tucked between his chest and the left side of Kuroo’s body and his other arm resting over Kuroo’s stomach.

Kenma finally falls asleep to the sound of Kuroo’s even breathing in his chest, and his heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> earplugs are a godsend but they're not good for your ears. I only wear them when my white noise machine can't block out everything.
> 
> even then they aren't perfect and it's still hard to get to sleep


	3. Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma feels like a burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written quickly while it was in my head - it's short and unedited.

Kenma’s father will probably always trigger him. Whether it’s his breathing, his chewing, the fact that he taps his foot when they’re stopped at a red light, anything. They have their spats like every father and son do, but other families probably don’t laugh when their son tells them their breathing is bothering them.

Maybe they do, Kenma wouldn’t know.

Kenma’s had a particularly good day. He’s been able to keep his headphones on for most of it, and his family hasn’t been making too much noise. Kenma usually keeps to himself in his room, occasionally leaving to grab a drink or food, or to stretch his legs. He talks with his mother, sees what his younger brother is up to – maybe he watches the video game he’s playing for a moment before the pressing of the buttons on the controller gets to him – before heading back up to his room.

One particular time he goes downstairs for food (there’s leftovers that have been calling his name ever since he first felt his stomach rumble), his father is already in the kitchen, unpacking… _something_ from a box. Kenma doesn’t concern himself with it. He grabs his food from the fridge and puts it in the microwave for forty-five seconds.

The sound of packaging opening doesn’t bother Kenma, for some reason it never has. His father rips into his package, looking it over and criticizing how it was packaged like food.

(Kenma wonders how the hell a simple ZipLock bag is the same as food packaging – which ranges from boxes to air tight packaging – and _why that even matters_ , but whatever.)

The microwave says twenty-two seconds when Kenma distinctly hears the unmistakable whistle of air passing through his father’s nose, and wants to rip his ears off. His first instinct is to book it back to his room once his food is done, but even when the microwave goes off, his father is still talking to him, and his nose is still whistling. Kenma sees freedom behind his father’s shoulder when his father decides to start talking to him about school, and what he’s going to do when he graduates.

“We’ve had this conversation before.” Kenma mumbles, nibbling on his food and trying not to crush it in his hands. His ears are tingling, so is his lower back. It’s a reaction he’s always had and he has _no idea_ why is back of all places would tingle.

“Yes, we have.” His father says simply, and continues to _breathe._ It’s amazing how oxygen and carbon dioxide passing through nostrils will make Kenma want to kill a person. Even if that person is his father.

“Oh my god.” Kenma says, finally moving his feet past his father.

“What?” His father asks, watching Kenma pass him.

“Your nose is whistling-” Kenma’s voice fades as he rounds the corner to his room, but his father’s voice is clear in his ears.

“Oh fuck off!” He sighs, clearly exasperated with Kenma. _Everyone’s always exasperated with Kenma._

Kenma closes his door and makes a beeline for his desk, putting on his headphones again and turning on the music he’d been listening to before getting up for his snack. He leans back and eats his food as his thoughts eat at his mind.

He hates the feeling he gets in his heart when his father reacts like that. Without fail, every time Kenma mentions something, he’ll sigh and roll his eyes. It doesn’t affect him, so he doesn’t care. Breathing doesn’t bother him, why would it bother anyone else?

Kenma wishes his father would try to understand. He wishes he didn’t see everything in black and white.

All he feels is dread. Shame, dread, whatever it is, he hates it. It coils in the pit of his stomach and makes it’s way up to his heart, clawing and squeezing until he feels like he can’t breathe. Kenma has to say something to _someone_ , has to try and articulate what he feels _somehow_ , and his first instinct is to pull out his phone and text Kuroo.

_‘I am a nuisance.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that happened tonight


End file.
